Full Of Sound And Fury
by AllSolsDay
Summary: Five years have passed since Sarah left the Labyrinth, and she has, regrettably, grown up. But not all her ties are cut, and when a greater threat emerges, she finds herself pulled back... with her new roommate along for the ride.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This chapter is entirely setup, with a healthy portion of humor to go along with it. Next chapter, brace yourselves: the plot arrives! Standard disclaimer, I'm not Jim Henson, and if I were, I'd be using a much more expensive keyboard. Review or face the Bog! Much love.

†-†

The sun rose over the Labyrinth with a distinct thud. This was followed, shortly thereafter, by a kind of high-pitched keening that sounded remarkably like airborne poultry which was neither meant to fly at such altitudes, nor had ever anticipated up until this moment in its admittedly dull life that it would ever achieve such heights. The laws of gravity, being what they were, allowed the screech to sustain itself for a moment or two longer than it might have in the human world, simply because it happened to be Tuesday, before the sound was cut off by what was most definitely a splat.

The splat set off a chain reaction of sounds which ranged from crashes to bangs to the odd thunk as a heavier object struck the ground. These were joined by the clank of metal on metal, the crunch of breaking wood, and the distinct laughter of goblins. It was distinguishable from any other kind of laughter partly because of its pitch, and partly because whenever a goblin laughed it sounded as though it was not entirely certain it was allowed to be feeling mirth, and so proceeded with caution even as the noise rolled out of their voicebox, lest the sudden need to stop present itself.

In this case, however, the sudden need to stop presented itself not as a prohibition of mirth, but as the sound of a pair of impeccably tailored boots striking a stone floor. It was much the same thing when one considered that the boots were attached to a pair of slender legs, and that said legs belonged to Jareth, who was _not _happy to have been woken this early. By the time he had pulled a particularly impressive robe around his shoulders and begun striding down the hallway of the castle, dread had begun pouring out in his wake. Pale eyes narrowed, mouth formed into a thin line, the Goblin King was the picture of austerity as he threw the doors to the throne room wide.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The cluster of goblins standing in the center of the room froze, casting furtive glances at one another. The sight which greeted the king was one that would, no doubt, haunt his nightmares for weeks to come. At one end, by the window, there was set up a kind of massive slingshot, hastily put together out of battle equipment. Beside it sat a cage which contained several nervous-looking chickens. Feathers and bits of wreckage were scattered everywhere, as though they had tested the slingshot indoors first, and beyond the window… beyond the window was a construction of objects so bizarre that it forced Jareth to tilt his head before he realized what it was.

Something like a partially destroyed maze, made of boxes, chains, cookware, and whatever else the goblins had been able to find, had been erected, and an object appeared to have been launched at it. Lying in the midst of what had already been destroyed was what had become, now, an ex-chicken, though being in the Labyrinth, it was mostly lying about wondering where it had gone wrong in its life that it had gotten itself killed by goblins so early on.

One of the goblins, a particularly deformed but eloquent specimen, lifted his head, gazing up at his sovereign with wide eyes. "Y-your majesty. We was – playing – Angry Beds."

"_Birds! It's Birds, Ginseng!"_

"And what," Jareth snarled softly, his jaw clenched tight, "is this… angry bird?"

Ginseng trembled, but managed to remain standing up. "A game, your majesty."

"A game? A game? You wake me at this hour for a game? What have you done to my throne room? There are – you have gotten _chicken feathers_ on my throne! And what is that _thing _you've built outside? Answer me!"

"We was. Making the game in real life, sir. Your Excellency. It comes from a screen. Miss Sarah has it."

Struck by the sudden and overwhelming urge to knock his head into the nearest wall, Jareth lifted a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "Miss Sarah. What have I told you about visiting that girl? WELL? Did I not state _very specifically _that any of you caught out of the realm near _Sarah _would be tipped head-first into the Bog of Eternal Stench? Right. That's it. All of you are going straight in."

The crowd recoiled as one, leaving the one goblin still capable of speech to lead the pack. Ginseng, it would seem. "But Your Majesty. She called us. She was sleeping, and she called. We had to go!"

Eyes fluttering, Jareth turned his back on them, drawing in a deep breath. It was nearly impossible to be a vicious tyrant when your subjects had lint for brains and you also happened to be indebted to a girl. A little girl who, it seemed, was still capable of giving him no end of grief, even when _unconscious. _Every time that gibbering pack of fools went up there they came back with _ideas. _If he had to relive the incident involving _Pokemon _ever again he would abdicate his throne and leave Hogwart to run the Labyrinth.

"Clean up this mess. If I see so much as one bit of straw out of place, it's the Bog for all of you. And would somebody retrieve that _chicken_!" Sweeping out of the hall, door slamming behind him, Jareth let out a sigh. Sometimes, he wondered if he ought to have taken over ruling _pixies_ instead. At least they were neat.

†-†

For a long moment, Jules thought she must be hallucinating. What other explanation was there for a face suddenly appearing in the surface of her mirror? It certainly bore no resemblance to hers – for one thing, it was male, and for another, it was decidedly _pale. _Downright pasty, as a matter of fact, which begged the question of why her figments didn't see more sunlight. Slowly, she lifted the bottle of hairspray like a weapon, and demanded, "Who are you and why am I hallucinating you?"

"_Sarah."_ It was almost a whisper, but it echoed. Wait a minute, was the hallucination… glimmering? There was something in that horribly pasty complexion that was almost reflective. Aside from the mirror, which he was _still in, staring at her out of. _This was a horrible day to lose her grip on sanity. The day before exams! Of all the nerve. On the one hand, at least she was seeing attractive people who weren't there, but on the other, them not being there didn't say great things about her mental state.

Faces did not pop up out of mirrors, they didn't talk, and they didn't look like some kind of bioluminescent fish had died to contribute to costuming. Folding her arms, Jules stepped back and glared at him. "Look, can you come back on a day when I don't have a Biochem final to study for? If I'm going to wind up in a psych ward you could at least have the decency to wait until I pass this semester so I can take Christmas break off! Get lost! Begone! Um. Get the behind me, demon!"

"_Sarah."_

Reaching out, the hallucination extended a pale hand, brushing up against the glass. Like he was inside the mirror, which she happened to know was physically impossible. It was an inch thick at most, certainly not large enough to be holding glittering men who were trying to reach out and touch her. "Wrong mirror, Phantom! Aren't you people supposed to wear masks? Ugh. You're not there, you're not there, you don't exist, go away!" Turning her back on him, Jules paced the bathroom floor. It occurred to her that she should probably not be glaring down the demise of her sanity in sushi-print pajamas, but it wasn't like you could _plan _for these things.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she hoped against hope that when she opened them he would be gone.

"_Sarah."_

Damn. Jules cracked an eyelid. Still there. "What do you want with Sarah? Well, actually, that's a really common name, do you mean Sarah _Williams? _Oh God. I'm talking to a man in a mirror. I'm talking to a man in a mirror. This isn't happening." Throwing the hairspray aside, she bolted for the bathroom door, stuck her head out into the hallway, and shouted. "SARAH! I THINK I'M GOING CRAZY! THERE'S A MAN WHO WEARS TOO MUCH GLITTER IN THE BATHROOM MIRROR AND HE WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!"


	2. Chapter 1 and a half

Author's Note: I am so, so sorry that this took almost a year to continue, but now that I have the summer I fully intend to continue it. This chapter is really more like 1.5, the bridge between last chapter's ending scene and the actual plot. As before, I do not own Jim Henson's intellectual property, and any oddities in Jareth's characterization are, I assure you, entirely deliberate.

†-†

Deep in a book about the intricacies of theater history, which made only slightly more sense than it otherwise might have if it had been written in ancient Greek (and to be fair, it was _about _the ancient Greeks, but couldn't have the decency to get to the bits on orgiastic rituals quicker), Sarah didn't hear her roommate shouting at first. Propped up on her bed, she blinked as the door to their room flew open. In it stood Jules, panting, braced against the doorway, looking particularly ominous for a girl in sushi-print pajamas.

"Sarah! Turn your music down for once in your life – are you listening to David Bowie _again? _If I've told you once I've told you a hundred times – anyway. Come, right now, follow me into the bathroom so you can prove that I haven't gone insane and if I have then you can call the men in the white coats for me."

For a moment Sarah considered whether or not her friend had simply gotten into a caffeine-induced state of madness, after all, she was shaking, but then decided swiftly that if her friend had gone mad then she needed to have the coffeemaker taken away from her in very short order and anyway it wouldn't matter so much if she humored her. Snapping the book shut, she slid down to the floor and followed where beckoned, all the while listening to Jules mumble vaguely coherent things which, somehow, still managed to make more sense than the book she had been attempting to study. This exam was going to be an exercise in praying to every deity she could think of and, following her roommate's example, possibly Spongebob as well.

"I was just standing there, trying to brush my teeth, and you know me, brushing my teeth isn't exactly an invitation to show up and drive me crazy," Jules informed her breathlessly, before swinging around behind Sarah and shoving her into the bathroom with both hands flat on her back. "And there he was, looking like a bad imitation of a Twilight vampire, saying Sarah over and over again!"

At first, she saw absolutely nothing. The theory, which stated that precisely like last year at finals when Jules had gone mad after her fifth cup of coffee and invented a new sport involving vending machines, a tennis ball, and campus security, her friend must be seeing things now, was starting to hold enough weight to qualify for an international competition when she saw it. A flicker in the surface of the glass, which rippled until it formed a face. Sharp, proud, pale features, a pair of glittering, almost mismatched eyes, the color of a storm. The wild shock of pale hair, the streaks of color that climbed his features, and more importantly, the voice which spoke from them, were all _too_ familiar.

_"Sarah. Come back to me, Sarah…"_

The name rose unbidden, as such things often do. _Jareth._ A face that had haunted her dreams for years, despite her own willingness to decide that it had been nothing more than a childish daydream. The idea that a Goblin King had kidnapped her brother, dragged her to another world, and introduced her to all manner of fantastical beings made even _less_ sense in the real world than her textbook, and that was saying something. (Possibly, it was reciting Shakespeare, which was the next exam.) But there was no denying that she _knew_ who this was, and for a figment of her imagination he was doing a bang-up job of not being imaginary at that very moment.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she informed the face in the mirror stubbornly, folding her arms. "This isn't real. It's impossible, in fact." Yet whether it was impossible or possible, it continued to happen in utter defiance of the laws of reality. The face in the mirror laughed, a sound that reached out and ran across her skin in a soft ripple of unease. "Come back to you?" Sarah struggled to think of what the ending had been, but it had faded, as memories do, the edges nothing more than smoke. "I won. You let me go."

"Wait, you know the hallucination?" hissed a voice at her elbow.

"It's a long story, I'll tell you later."

"Really? Cause for a hallucination he's kinda ho – ow."

Elbowing her sharply, Sarah looked back up at the face in the mirror, watching as its lips twisted into a catlike grin. _"Sarah. Still so defensive."_ A hand raised behind the glass, and she watched, with a mixture of horror and wonder, as it reached out through the surface, until one gloved set of long fingers reached through toward her. _"Why don't we have our little chat alone. So much more intimate, don't you think?"_ Into its fingertips shimmered the round shape of a crystal, throwing rays as it caught the light through the window.

Sarah threw a hand up over her eyes, unaware that moments later she slid slowly to the floor.


	3. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Still don't own Jim Henson, though I wish I could share in the genius. And look, it didn't even take me a whole year this time! From here on out the chapters should get longer since I now have a lot of exposition to cover before we can get to THE BIG REVEAL. Many thanks to my reviewers, and now without further ado... Chapter Two.

†-†

The crystal rolled ahead of her, darting down the hallway with a soft, beckoning glimmer. Without quite knowing why, Sarah turned to follow it, leaving Jules, the mirror, and the bathroom behind. On it went, following a trail out of the door of their room and down the hall, toward the elevator. _This is insane. You can't seriously be following crystals thrown by lunatic supernatural beings down hallways because they're shiny, Sarah, you have more sense than that. _

But something compelled her, pulling at the back of her being, overriding every sensible instinct she possessed. Even as she scolded herself, something drew her onward with swift footsteps, darting after it lest it escape her line of sight. To the elevator she darted, past others in the hall whose faces seemed to fade until every other soul in the building was little more than a ghost. Blinking, she passed straight through a girl with her nose in a spiral notebook, as though she were made of little more than fog. Then another, and another, faded, slowly emptying a dormitory that was crowded on a Friday night before exams into negative space.

The lights above her flickered, dimming slowly, until the only light in the hall emanated from the crystal as it rolled into the elevator, the door sliding open to greet her as Sarah chased it. No sooner had she bent to pick it up than it vanished in her fingertips, replaced by the distinct feeling of hands on her shoulders. _"Hello, Sarah." _The voice was a soft drawl in her ear that sent a shiver all the way down her spine. She could feel him behind her now, the warmth of a body that covered her from head to toe. Turning her head slightly, she could see him, the edge of his face beside hers as he bent. _"Isn't this better?"_

"Let go of me!" Jerking against his hold, she found that he had vanished, gone before she could think to slam an elbow back into his features in self-defense. As if he had the right to touch her… as if he had the right to make her turn _colors._ Brushing herself off furiously, Sarah nearly jumped at the noise of the elevator door sliding open before her.

The hallway ahead was nearly dark, mist climbing in the corners and along the walls, forming a tunnel through which another crystal rolled, in a neat, perfect line. The light that emanated from it was faint, silvered, the surface mirroring the walls around it in a swirl of clear smoke. There it was again, that tug at the back of her, pulling Sarah forward against her way, one foot after another as she darted after it. It felt as though an invisible hand had taken hold of her and yanked her forward, fingers around her spine. Without quite knowing why, she had to follow. She had to know what that crystal held, what lay at the other side of the doors which opened as she arrived at them, leading her out into the courtyard and the night air which closed over her like a cool blanket.

The lights which illuminated it flickered once, twice, a third time, and went out, plunging the place into darkness and starlight. The crystal bounced and then slid up into the air, soaring above her. Unconsciously, Sarah followed it with her gaze, looking upward. Outlined against the waxing shape of the moon was a familiar pale figure, rendered as though he were carved in ice by its silver glow, reaching one gloved hand out to catch it. From above, he offered her a wicked smile. _"Sarah. Do you like the stage I've found for you?" _Throwing his arm wide, he slid the crystal down along his arm to rest on his shoulder, and then back down again. _"I believe I have something that belongs to you."_

The crystal cut through the air as he tossed it upward, and as he caught it arcing down, it shifted, forming a figure – one which struggled helplessly against Jareth's hold, a long strip of cloth tied around his head to form a gag. Lifting his head, he showed wide, frightened eyes behind the frames of his glasses, muffled noises that might have been screaming or might have been her name as he reached a hand out to her, pleading.

Rage settled over Sarah, forming an icy mantle across her shoulders. "Kyle! Let him go! How dare you!" Turning, she ran back to the doors, yanking fruitlessly as she discovered that the way back was sealed shut. "What gives you the right? YOU HAVE NO POWER OVER ME!"

"_Over you, Sarah? Of course not." _Lifting the boy like a limp rag doll, he held the struggling young man out over the edge of the roof, the smirk on his face suddenly bearing a razor's edge. It was a wolf's smile, a baring of teeth and vicious intent. _"Over him, on the other hand? I most certainly do."_

"Let him go!" There were tears forming in Sarah's eyes now, but there was pride in the set of her jaw as she glared up at him. "I demand that you let him go. Right now. He's mine, you can't have him."

The smirk did not waver as Jareth lifted him higher. _"Now, now, Sarah, that's no way to talk to a man holding your lover's life in his hands. Play nicely and I might just give you what you want. Come on now, don't you want to bargain?"_

Sarah spat on the ground before her. "I'm not giving you anything. Let him go!"

Eyeing Kyle, he spent a moment appearing to consider. _"She wants me to let you go. What do you think, Kyle?" _The boy nodded vigorously, grasping at a last scrap of hope. Looking down at her, he arched one sculpted brow and let out a low, icy laugh. _"Very well. Anything for you, Sarah." _Still laughing, he let go.

"NO! KYLE! Oh God, Kyle!"

With a sharp _snap_, he hit the pavement below.

†-†

"KYLE! KYLE, OPEN THIS DOOR BEFORE I HAVE TO START BREAKING LAWS AND HACKING INTO ELECTRONIC LOCKS! KYLE WILLOUGHBY PIERCE! OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!"

Jules was still pounding furiously on the surface of the door when it was yanked suddenly inward, resulting in a disparity of motion which caused her to nearly topple into the young man standing on the other side, a sleepy expression on his face, curls mussed in such a way that he had either been asleep or experimenting with the forces involved in roller coasters. Considering that this would have been nearly impossible to fit into his dorm room and she would, naturally, have demanded to be involved, Jules decided that he must have been asleep.

"What are you doing here, Jules?" He stifled a yawn with one hand. "It's one in the morning."

"Wrong." Reaching out, she grabbed hold of his arm and started dragging him down the hallway, ignoring his yelp of protest. "It's 'Your Girlfriend Is Down At the Campus Infirmary Unconscious O'Clock' and you're coming with me if you want to live."

"What? Sarah? What happened to Sarah?"

"The hallucination in our mirror started talking to her and then she passed out on the bathroom floor. And no, don't even – I've been through all the versions of this where I'm insane already." At last she let go of him and continued at a swift pace to the elevator, rolling her eyes at the skeptical expression on Kyle's face. "We both saw him, some… blonde guy who could probably ease up on the glitter, and then she just passed out. I had to get the RA to help me carry her, I don't know if they'll send her to the hospital but we have about five minutes to sprint. Any questions, class?"

"So you're telling me." He adjusted his glasses as the floors whirred past them. "That Sarah's having some kind of psychotic break? I didn't think she was that worried about our Theater test!"

"Idiot." Swatting him across the back of the head, Jules made an exasperated noise. "I don't know _what _he was but there was definitely some kind of supernatural craziness going on. I'm not sure if ghosts are that good with eyeliner though, unless he was the spirit of Ziggy Stardust."

Kyle ducked, staring at her. "You finally lost it, didn't you? What did you do, mainline caffeine again? I remember when they had to lock you up with the campus police, you know, Jules."

"We don't have time for this!" Jules threw her hands up, dark eyes fixed on his face as she tried to figure out how to convince him. Under normal circumstances, she would not believe men who popped up in mirrors Phantom of the Opera style were real either, but unless there was something _really _interesting in their coffee supply, it had been real. Sarah refusing to wake up was certainly real. "Look, believe whatever you want, science boy, but the fact is, Sarah's still doing her impression of Sleeping Beauty. C'mon."

She grabbed his collar, ignoring his protests that he needed that throat for breathing, and hauled him off down the hill as fast as she possibly could. Strange things were afoot at the Circle K, and she intended to get to the bottom of it.

†-†

"Begging your pardon, your Majesty –"

Without looking up, Jareth snapped, "What is it, Hogweed? Longing for the Bog again so soon? I'm touched by your dedication to such a terrible fate, truly I am." Lifting his head, he shifted from his position, sprawled sideways across the shape of his throne, boots striking the stone floor with a sharp snap.

It was only when he faced the throne room that the notion that something might be wrong crept up on him, so suddenly that he did not have time to duck as awareness clocked him across the back of the head in brutal fashion. It was _quiet _in the hall. In a kingdom populated entirely by goblins and figments of the imagination, silence was even rarer than unicorns (of which they had three, decreased from four after one became despondent and departed for the kingdom of elves instead), and even more improbable. Nothing was quite impossible in the Labyrinth, but blessed peace, for which Jareth had spent centuries hoping, had never once fallen.

Not a single goblin cawed with raucous laughter. There was no odd construction as they continued their pursuit of Angry Beds, for which they had attempted to use actual beds before Jareth had threatened to lock them all in an oubliette, no birds running underfoot, no gambling. Not a single creature engaged in wild drinking, not one hint of debauchery. The place felt almost _clean. _He had been so busy embracing the sudden time to think that he had not thought to realize that if he could hear himself think in his own realm, something was most certainly wrong. Even more wrong than the face of the subject currently standing before him, which was really more of a minor tragedy than a full-blown emergency. He did have two eyes and was almost symmetrical.

Hoggle cowered before him in much the way any man (or man-like creature) facing an eternity of never having a _single _friend come within three leagues of him might, head lowered, gaze fixed firmly on the floor as he wrung his hands. "I was told, please don't tip me into the Bog for this, your Excellency, I'm only doing as I was said to, and she's so very good at telling people to do, Her Highness is… I was told that you ought to come to the west wing of the castle, sir, because she's that particular about it, and to tell you…" He choked momentarily on his words. "To – to tell you, sir, that… I'm to help find a tailor… who'll have your pants taken out for you, on account of them being too tight."

There was only one person in all the worlds who was so impertinent, so _infuriating, _that she would storm into his castle, invent a wing of it for herself to stay in, and have the _nerve _to critique his wardrobe without facing dire consequences. Jareth sighed, gaze swiveling heavenward. "Tell my sister that I do not come when called, Hoghead, and that she can either let me kill the tailor or get rid of him at once."

"But – but she said…"

"HOGWART! Do not make me tip you in the Bog." Eyes flashing, he advanced on the pathetic creature, pointing his crop downward to settle it just under the thing's chin. "You will relay my message in exactly those words, and then you will cease to take orders from that infernal woman, or I will personally make the Bog of Eternal Stench seem like an act of mercy. Do I make myself clear?" Swallowing, Hoggle nodded, and bolted from the room.

Dragging a hand through the shock of his hair, Jareth cursed that he was not an only child. Aovana's presence could only mean a sharp uptick in his usual expectation of mind-splitting headaches, quite a lot of convincing the Labryrinth that no, she did not have good ideas and that anyone who listened to her whole-heartedly should be immediately shot, and no doubt the horrifying prospect of keeping her out of his wardrobe. The one thing that could be said for the Queen of the Brownies was that she was _not _their mother. Considering that their mother had a habit of sacrificing virgins whenever she was feeling a bit peaky, this was not much of a recommendation.

Plucking a crystal from the air, he let it rise into the air and eyed the world through it, gaze narrow. There was nothing worse than a family visit, except possibly for a reunion. Luckily, they weren't due for one of those for another millennium. What he saw on the other side provoked a deep scowl. Whatever her infernal obsession was with the color pink, he would like to find whoever had suggested to her that magenta went well with anything and strangle them for the mere suggestion. It was on _everything. _It looked as though a pixie had vomited on his furnishings.

Sliding the dark shape of a cloak around him, Jareth sighed. He was going to have to get rid of her, immediately, and that meant…

…that meant he would have to _talk _to her.


End file.
